White Magic
by BleedingRoses92
Summary: AU. He didn't expect a woman to be so determined to avenge her father. But then again, he had never met Clara Masbath. Something about this woman confuses Ichabod to no end... could it be her white magic?
1. Chapter 1: Trapped

**Hello! Okay so I know that I'm not done my Sweeney Todd story, but I had a sudden inspiration and I absoloutly had to write it!**

**Disclaimer: No I don't own any of the cast from Sleepy Hollow... I'm working on it.**

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Chapter one- _Trapped_

Drums.

A heart beating like one thousand drums, a heart beating so loudly, that the bearer was certain it would explode in her chest, a heart so broken, that she could no longer put the pieces back together; they were too small, and there were too many. Her life had broken; fell apart, in the span of a day.

The rain was falling lightly in Sleepy Hollow, but to Clara Masbath, it was coming down in buckets. Her brown locks whipped at her tear ridden face as her hands frustratingly wiped at her wet cheeks. Her feet moved on their on accord, running faster and faster until she finally reached the small cottage she called home.

And still the conversation replayed in her mind, over and over again…

"_Theodore is a fine man, Clara. Why must you be so stubborn?"_

Clara threw open the door of the tiny house and ran to the small confines of her room, she locked the door and then promptly collapsed on her bed, sobbing furiously.

"_You push away every man that comes into your life. You are at the marrying age, and Theodore has the means to support you…soon, no one will have you."_

The young woman grimaced visibly.

"_You must see reason here! This is what's best for you, for all of us! If you do not accept his proposal you will shame us all… he's a fine gentleman Clara, give him a chance."_

_At that point, Clara Masbath had had no choice but to accept the man's proposal._

And in the end, that's what tore her up inside. She was going to be forced into a life with a man she didn't love.

By now, Clara new that marrying for love was very rare, that it was something that only happened in books… yet for some odd reason, the young woman in question had hope, that possibly, her life might turn out to be a sappy romance novel, but of course, that was crazy.

Her tears were proof that that would never happen.

_I hate you, father._

* * *

An hour later, there was a knock at the door.

The young woman opened it with some hesitance and was soon stuck in a bone-crushing embrace. It was Katrina.

"Katrina… can't… breathe…"

Katrina let go of her at once.

"Sorry!"

Clara smiled at her best friend. "It's alright. Would you like to come in? I'm just making some soup."

"You're not coming to the gathering tonight?" Katrina asked.

Clara smirked. "No. I'm staying here, trying to find a potion that could get me out of this mess."

The young blond rolled her eyes at her brunette friend. "You can't try to drown your sorrows in warm milk and potions, Clara! You _have_ to come!"

"But my brother-"

"Write him a note! Your father is out on watch tonight and I'll help you make soup for young Daniel… please?"

The brunette sighed and hesitantly nodded. This triggered another gigantic hug from her friend and Clara couldn't help but laugh. Katrina smiled and invited herself in, quickly removing her cloak and going straight to the cauldron containing vegetable soup.

"I heard about you and Theodore…" The blond said softly, "and I offer you my sympathies, Clara. I'm sorry."

Clara's brown orbs widened, it had gotten around that quickly? "…Thank you." She replied, her eyes now starting to water. "I-it's just so terrible, you know? I-I don't… I just never really thought that it would happen to me…"

Katrina embraced her friend softly and handed her a small blue book. "I want you to have this… I figured it might bring you luck."

"A Compendium of Spells, Charms and Devices of the Spirit World… our book?" Clara whispered. "Katrina, are you sure?"

She nodded. "You remember how our mothers used to do magic together? I believe that you deserve it, Clara. Keep it, it's yours."

Clara hugged Katrina tightly. "I shall always keep it close to my heart…"

* * *

"You look like you're mourning someone's death." Katrina stated bluntly sometime later.

The soup was finished and the blond had insisted she help chose what Clara was going to wear. That was a mistake on Clara's part, for she and Katrina had very different tastes, and the blond could be _very_ stubborn when she wanted to be.

"Well… I'm mourning my freedom." Clara answered plainly.

Katrina rolled her blue eyes. "Try to catch someone's eye tonight, maybe, you could run from this place together… go to New York. But that shan't happen if you're mourning."

"Fine." She muttered grudgingly. "But I beg of you, no pink things."

"Agreed."

* * *

Clara Masbath looked herself over from the hundredth time that evening.

"Are you sure, Kat? I haven't worn this one in ages!"

The dress was a dark green with a white chemise under it. The actual gown had dark blue and gold stitching on it and the skirt split revealing the chemise, the sleeves fanned out to about the elbows and the laces in the front were dark blue ribbon. Gold thinly outlined the waist and bodice. The dress was elegant, but not overly so… that's why it was one of Clara's favorites.

As for her hair, Clara had her curly dark brown tresses loose, except for a few wisps pulled back and tied with a dark blue ribbon, with some unruly curls that framed her porcelain face.

"You look wonderful! Much better then the black you were wearing, you looked like the embodiment of black magic." At this, both girls shivered. It wasn't that they were witches that performed spells that caused discord and that they made poisonous potions. No, the two women just had a vast knowledge of herbs and plants to make healing potions, and the only spells they knew were the ones from their book. They were good 'witches' that performed white magic, in fact, Clara was known as the town healer and often worked with Beth Killian, the midwife. To the two friends, black magic was an evil concept that only evil people would use, and Katrina Van Tassel and Clara Masbath were not evil people.

Later that night, after young Daniel Masbath had returned home and Clara had told him to eat his soup and come to the party if he felt the need, both girls were whispering animatedly to each other.

"He doesn't seem that bad, Clara… maybe…"

"Do _not_ utter another word, Katrina. I know that he isn't bad looking, but he's just so… _boring._"

Katrina smirked. "Well then, let's play a game of Pickety Witch." And with that, the young woman started to organize.

"Katrina stop! No!" Clara hissed from behind, but she wasn't acknowledged, all the distressed woman received was a smile from Theodore and a smirk from Katrina.

Next thing she knew, the brunette was blindfolded and turning around in a circle, praying to god that she didn't chose Theodore.

Luckily, that prayer was answered.

"_The pickety witch, the pickety witch… who's got a kiss for the pickety witch…_"

The whole time Clara sang the tune, she thought of what she was going to do to Katrina if she chose Theodore.

And whatever it was, it wasn't going to be pretty.

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**Hope you enjoyed... REVIEW!!**


	2. Chapter 2: The male population

**Okay guys! New chapter! Hope I get some feedback on it... oh and by the way, I just wanted to let you guys know that I couldn't find Young Masbaths name so I'm naming him Daniel. Also, I'm putting in a WHOLE bunch of stuff that wasn't in the movie.**

**Cheers!**

**Lex**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything yet, I'm currently trying to steal Ichabod from Tim but it isn't working... I'll let you know...**

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White Magic

Chapter Two- _The better looking half of the male population_

_Please not Theodore… Please not Theodore… Okay, Clara. Just pick someone, it's not __**that**__ difficult. One, two, three…_

Her hands cupped somebody's face.

* * *

The rain had stopped and left behind a thin mist, but the sky was still overcast. It was evening, and Constable Ichabod Crane was arriving at Baltus Van Tassle's house. The Constable expected something upon entering the house, but never did he expect a party. Children were running about playing and adults were speaking in hushed tones, musicians were playing their instruments and, in the back of the room, Ichabod saw a woman inside a circle of men, blindfolded. Now, the young Constable had no desire to squeeze by all the enamored men looking for the man of the house, so he figured asking was the best bet.

He saw a young woman talking. "Pardon my intrusion, miss. I seek Baltus Van Tassel, but-"

"In the parlor, sir. Further on."

The young man nodded his thanks and began his trek through the jungles of people. Imagine his surprise when his faced was suddenly cupped by gentle hands.

* * *

The texture was smooth and Clara bit her lip in thought. She gently caressed the skin with one thumb to get a better idea of who it could be, but no name came up, she drew a blank. Taking a huge risk, Clara let her thumb wander to the corner of his mouth and gently felt his lips; nothing. She could feel the tenseness of the man before her and came to a sudden realization, she didn't even know the sex of the person in front of her. Her heart pounded in her ears at the thought. _But it can't be a woman, no one else has skin like this… at least, not that I know of. _

"Is it Theodore?" Clara asked hesitantly, hoping that the people around her could not hear the pain in her voice.

"I beg pardon, miss. I am only a stranger." Came the sound of a soothing male.

At this, Clara furrowed her brow. "A stranger?" She asked softly. "Then have a kiss on account."

With that, the brunette placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Curious about her savior, Clara took off the blindfold and looked at him, her breath caught in her throat and she inhaled sharply. Needless to say, what she saw did not disappoint. He was of average height and had wavy dark brown hair, his cheekbones were high, yet his features were relatively soft. Her eyes met his in a shy stare and both people took a small step back. His eyes were beautiful, they were a deep dark brown and had an unexplainable depth to them. Clara smiled at him.

"I… um, I am looking for Baltus Van Tassel." He stuttered.

Clara's smile turned into a playful grin, she turned her head to look at Katrina. "I'm afraid that I am no Van Tassel, sir… my name is Clara Masbath, pleasure to make your acquaintance." Unexpectedly, Theodore draped an arm around the woman's small form protectively.

Katrina stepped up beside her friend and smiled at her sympathetically.

"I am the daughter of the house; Katrina Van Tassel." She curtsied.

Brom couldn't take it anymore. Clara had seen his jealous glances, and rolled her dark eyes as he stepped forward. "And who are you, friend? We've not heard your name yet."

The stranger looked curiously at Brom, then let his gaze wander to Theodore. "… I have not yet said it." He looked at Clara, "Excuse me."

The young woman saw Katrina raise her brows out of the corner of her eye and she smiled; the man had guts. Slinking out of Theodore's grasp, the brunette stood by her friend and smirked. Just by looking at the stranger, Clara could tell that he was an intelligent man, he was most definitely kind… but had a stubborn air to him as well.

During her lifetime, Miss Masbath had developed a special talent; she had incredible accuracy when reading people. Yet, when it came to the stranger, she couldn't piece everything together. His aura was strong, that much was certain, but Clara only seemed to have half of the pieces. This worried the young woman, for she had _never_ been stumped before.

Brom's raised voice quickly snapped Clara out of her thoughts: "You need to learn some manners!"

He had turned the young stranger around and held his fist very close to the stranger's face.

Clara panicked. "Brom!"

The entire room was silent.

"Clara-" Theodore soothed, but the fiery woman would have none of it. "Leave him be!" She exclaimed.

"Come, come. We want no raised voices… It is only to raise the spirits during this dark time that I and my good wife are giving this little party…"

Baltus Van Tassel had emerged from his sitting room, and he had directed this comment at Clara. She looked down as if to apologize and the older man smiled, he then turned to the handsome stranger.

"Young sir, you are welcome even if you are selling something…"

At that, Clara saw the man relax, take out an envelope and give it to Baltus. "Thank you, sir. I am Constable Ichabod Crane, sent to you from New York with authority to investigate the murder in Sleepy Hollow."

Upon hearing the latter, Clara saw uneasy glances exchanged between Notary Hardenbrook, Magistrate Philpse, Reverend Steenwyck and Doctor Lancaster. Her own brows shot up in disbelief. A _Constable_? A Constable sent from _New York_?

There was a sudden tension in the room, and though it was barely noticeable, Clara felt it. Something was distressing the leaders of her small town, and that was _never_ good.

"Then Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constable Crane. I hope you will do us the honor of staying in this house." Lady Van Tassel said sweetly. Clara felt shivers skate up and down her spine, for some odd reason, the brunette had a bad feeling about the Lady of the house.

"Well spoke, dear." Baltus cooed to his wife, his attention then turned to the young Ichabod Crane. "Come, sir. We'll get you settled… play on!"

Clara saw the Constable nod in approval and she smiled as her eyes met his for what was supposed to be the last time that night. He returned her smile kindly and was on his way.

Someone nudged her. "Very handsome, isn't he?" Katrina whispered.

"_Very_ handsome, Katrina. And he seems like a good person with true intentions… very nice to look at, wouldn't you agree?" The brunette said softly.

"Oh I would never _disagree_ with you on this subject, Clara." Katrina muttered playfully. Both girls looked at each other and burst out into small fits of giggles.

Brom walked up behind the two friends. Clara immediately stopped her giggling and glared. "Don't you _ever_ touch him like that again." She said warningly while brushing past him.

The young man's brows shot up in disbelief. "May I remind you, Miss Masbath, that you are betrothed."

Clara stopped on her tracks and turned slowly, she placed her hands on her slender hips. "You may not." She growled lowly. "Mr. Bones, you've no right to touch _anyone_ like that… especially the better looking half of the male population."

Brom's eyes widened slightly and Clara smirked.

* * *

Ichabod was led to his room and began to unpack all his things when the door opened and a young woman brought in a pitcher of water.

"Thank you. Please tell Mr. Van Tassel I will be down in a moment." He said while studying one of his instruments.

"I will, sir."

The woman said and she started to leave. But as she was almost out of the room, she stopped. " Thank God you're here."

With that, she was gone.

Putting the last of his things away, Ichabod Crane made his way downstairs to the sitting room.

* * *

Clara was pulled onto the dance floor and smiled as she twirled around with Katrina. They separated and their feet each moved in time with the other. Both girls laughed and twirled, while Theodore and Brom stood nearby; watching.

Ichabod came down the stairs and his eyes were immediately drawn to the brown-haired beauty dancing with her friend. Her hair bounced up and down, some of the strands of hair coming loose from their confines as she did so. Her eyes danced with mischief but there was something else there too, sadness or anger. Whichever, the young man could not tell, all he could see where her feet moving in time to the music and her hands lifting up her skirts ever so slightly to show her amazing footwork.

He shook his head. _I cannot have such thoughts about her… she is too pure of a being for me to pollute my mind with unpure thoughts of her._

Clara saw him looking and smiled as she met his eyes, she saw him smile back and stopped dancing, she began to weave through the crowed when her waist was snagged. Theodore was taking her to the corner of the room. She looked up at him and saw him delivering a warning glare in the Constable's direction, to which the young woman delivered a sharp elbow to his stomach. He let go of her.

"All the way from New York!" Hardenbrook exclaimed.

"A waste of time!" Doctor Lancaster added.

Reverend Steenwyck turned to Baltus. "What can he do?!"

"Gentleman, gentleman…" The old man said calmly.

The servant girl, Sarah, left the room silently. But not before the Doctor secretly brushed his hand against the servant's buttocks, and in the end, his actions weren't so secret; Lady Van Tassel saw them.

As Sarah left, Ichabod knocked on the door and entered. "Excellent! Come in!" Baltus exclaimed, he turned to his wife. "Leave us, my dear."

The young constable walked around the room looking quite intimidating. "So." He began. Three persons murdered. First, Peter Van Garrett and his son Dirk Van Garrett. Both of them strong capable men, found together… decapitated. A week later, the Widow Winship, also decapitated… I will need to ask you many questions, but first let me ask; is anyone suspected?"

Baltus shook his head. "I don't understand you."

"I say, is anyone one person suspect in these acts?" Ichabod repeated.

All the men looked uneasily at the young, clearly lost, Constable. "Constable… how much have your superiors explained to you?"

"Only that the three were slain in open ground, their heads found severed from their bodies…"

The Reverend shook his head. "The heads were not found severed… The heads were not found at all."

Ichabod gave a look of disbelief. "The heads are… _g-gone_?"

The notary leaned forward. "Taken. Taken from the Headless horseman… taken back to hell."

The Constable looked around confused. "Pardon me, I… ?"

"Perhaps you had better sit down." Baltus said.

* * *

Clara once again was dragged to the dance floor, but this time, she was in the arms of Theodore. After one tedious dance, she was being led to the sitting room by her best friend.

The girls pressed their ears up to the door and listened:

"Are you… saying… ? Is that what you believe?" They heard Ichabod ask.

"Seeing is believing!" Hardenbrook said confidently.

"No one knows why the Hessian has chosen this time to return from the grave." Lancaster stated.

"Satan has called forth one of his own." The Reverend muttered. "They tell me you have brought books and trappings of scientific investigation." The girls could hear him drop a book on a table. "This is the only book I recommend you study."

Clara could only imagine that the said book was the Bible.

"Reverend Steenwyck, gentlemen… murder needs no ghost come from the grave… We have murder in New York without benefit of ghouls and goblins."

"You are a long way from New York, sir." Baltus told him seriously.

"A century at least." Ichabod agreed. "Tha assassin is a man of flesh and blood and I _will_ discover him."

By now, both girls could tell that all the men were getting exasperated at the young man's antics. "How do you propose to do so?" Steenwyck asked skeptically.

"By discovering his reason. It is what we call "the motive." This mystery will not resist investigation by a Rational Man."

Then there was a crash.

Both women stepped away from the door giggling at the Constable's clumsiness and walked back to the party arm in arm, Ichabod Crane was certainly an interesting man, and the more Clara thought about him, the more she wanted to get to know him.

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**What do you think? REVIEW please!**


	3. Chapter 3: Outside Discussions

**Wow... Two chapters in day! I'm on a roll!! Hope you like and please keep up the reviews!**

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Chapter Three- _Outside Discussions_

Her face was flushed and her body was overheating. Clara heaved a sigh of relief when she finally managed to tear away from the excitement and sit down on the porch outside. She was not there two minutes before the door was opened, and who should come out but Constable Ichabod Crane.

He took one look at her sitting down and his mind began to muddle. "Oh. Apologies, I-I didn't know-"

Clara merely smiled good-naturedly and patted the spot beside her. "No, no. It's quite alright Constable, you may sit down if you wish."

Ichabod looked at the young woman and hesitantly sat down. "It's quite the town, isn't it?" He asked conversationally.

Clara nodded. "Oh, yes. I-it is… or rather, was. Now there is darkness everywhere and everybody lives in constant fear… it didn't used to be like that."

"And you, Miss Masbath? Are you living in fear?"

Clara looked at him. "Am I?" She asked herself. After a moment of thinking the young woman shook her head. "I used to be, but now it doesn't seem to matter as much."

"I do not mean to pry but…"

"No, it's perfectly alright. Curiosity is something everyone possesses… I'm betrothed." She whispered.

Ichabod frowned. "Oh."

Clara smiled softly, men were so naïve. "I am betrothed to a man I do not love." She explained. "But then again, love is a silly thing. I'm old enough to understand that there are _no_ happy endings. Nothing seems to matter anymore; I'm damned to the life of an obedient wife… but look at me, complaining of my social life when you are after an undead horseman. My life seems miniscule in comparison, does it not?"

Ichabod smiled slightly. "Miss Masbath, there is no such thing as the headless horseman… is everyone in this village in thrall to superstition?"

"Not _everyone_ believes it's the horseman."

At that, Ichabod looked relieved.

"… Some think that it is the witch of the Western Woods who has made a pact with Lucifer." She continued while smirking.

The young man huffed in annoyance. "There are no witches, or galloping ghosts either!"

Clara cocked her head to the side. "Why are you so frightened of magic? ... Not all magic is black. There are ancient truths in these woods which have been forgotten in your city parks."

"If they are truths, they are not magic… and if magic, not truth."

The young woman chuckled good naturedly. "You believe in what you see." She stated.

"Usually, yes. It is the only reasonable way to believe in anything."

Clara shook her head. "This magic is black, Constable. Seeing isn't believing, but rather, believing is seeing."

Ichabod opened his mouth to retort but was cut off. "Clara!" Daniel Masbath exclaimed tiredly. "Clara, could we go home… please?"

The brunette nodded and turned to Ichabod. "Goodnight Constable Crane, it's been a pleasure speaking with you."

With one last curtsy, Clara Masbath picked up her younger brother and started to walk. Ichabod heard the boy mutter protests and almost chuckled when his sister quieted him with a: "Oh hush up. And don't tell me you're not enjoying this."

Having nothing else to do, the Constable made his way to his room.

Katrina Van Tassel was in the midsts of having her hair brushed by her step mother when there was a knock at the door. It was Sarah.

"That Constable, he wants the Bible, Mum." The maid said.

"Bible?" Lady Van Tassel asked curiously.

"I'll bring it to him." Katrina piped in.

And with a swish of her skirts, she was gone.

_A very pretty woman._ Ichabod thought as he sat in front of his ledger. All he had done so far was think of the ever so mysterious Clara Masbath. He had drawn pictures of her warm eyes and button nose in his ledger and seemed incapable of any rational thought; that bothered him. Ichabod ran his ran through his hair and glared at the small book. He heard a knock at the door and didn't even bother turning around.

"Yes – yes – come in."

The door opened and Katrina entered quietly, when she saw that the young Constable didn't turn around, she frowned.

"Thank you. Just leave it on the reading stand."

She placed the book down as instructed.

"That will be all…" Ichabod continued. "No, tell me, about that brute that seems to be Miss Clara's…" He finally turned around.

Katrina raised a quizzical brow and smirked at the young, clearly baffled, man. In his haste to stand, he had knocked all the papers off his desk; including his ledger. Katrina grinned as her eyes scanned the page filled with drawings of her best friend.

"Forgive me, I… I asked Sarah to bring me…" Ichabod stuttered. He followed Katrina's gaze and immediately picked up the ledger and straightened himself.

"So your clever books have failed you and you turn to the Bible after all!" The blond mused aloud.

"I see I am talked about downstairs." The Constable said sharply.

"In passing only, we have many things to talk about even in this backward place." Katrina assured.

"I am sorry. Please excuse my manner… I am not used to…"

"Female company?" She asked playfully.

"Society." Ichabod answered.

"How can you avoid society in New York? How I should love the opera and theatres, to go dancing… Is it wonderful?"

"I have never been." He answered shortly.

"But is there and art museum? A concert hall?

"I don't know."

Katrina pouted. "Then you have nothing to teach me, nor my friend Clara. For she is most interested in leaving Sleepy Hollow."

The young woman saw Ichabod frown thoughtfully at that comment. "She wishes to leave?" He asked curiously.

"I fear that I have said too much already, Constable. I should not have interrupted our town's savior. Good night." She turned to leave, but stopped. "And as to your first question; that brute proposed to her."

Ichabod felt all rational thought leave him even though he already knew the information the young blond was divulging. "I… I… I'm happy that…"

"She was forced to accept his proposal. But, you already knew that…"

And then she was gone.

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	4. Chapter 4: Showing Skin

**Okay another chapter up! I really need to owrk on my other stories but I've got way to many ideas for this one! Review please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything... I'm still in the smae situation I was in before..**

Chapter Four-_ Showing Skin _

"Murder! Murder! The horseman has killed again!"

Clara jumped out of bed and looked out the window. There was a thin layer of fog that gave everything an eerie look and the sky was, once again, overcast. Having no time to marvel at the _wonderful_ scenery, Clara ran to the kitchen and started to call for her father. She panicked when there was no answer.

"Daniel! Daniel!"

The young woman ran to her brother's room and shook the poor boy awake. "What is it, Clara?" He asked tiredly.

"The horseman has claimed another!" She exclaimed while putting on her cover up.

"What's wrong, sister?!" Daniel asked. "You look as though you've been painted white!"

"… Father isn't here, Daniel." She whispered shakily.

Both Masbaths were silent. Clara took her brother's hand and went outside. She knew that both were not in the proper state of dress to venture out, but she didn't care. Propriety wasn't the young woman's priority. And so, dressed only in her chemise, cover up robe and old shoes, Clara went to see who had been claimed.

"Magistrate Philipse! What's happened?" She asked weakly.

The leaders of the town, who had all been standing together talking up until this point, all turned to look at the distressed young woman. In any other circumstances, Clara would have thought her appearance comical; what with her patched up white chemise and red cover up robe, her hair bedraggled. But unfortunately, these were not other circumstances.

She saw most of the leaders take advantage of the skin she happened to be showing and quickly covered up. "W-what's happened?" Clara whispered weakly.

"The horseman…" Philipse said gently. "He has claimed Jonathan Masbath."

Clara wanted to wretch. She wanted to run away from everything. But then she felt a pressure on her waist and looked down; Daniel was hugging her torso tightly.

_I hate you_. It was the only thing that ran through her mind over and over again. _I hate you… I hate you…_ That was the last thing she said to him, that was the last thing she said to her father; I hate you.

Something caught Clara's eye in her peripheral vision; it was Constable Crane _trying _to ride one of Killian's horses. The sight would've made the young woman burst out laughing on any normal day, but today, Clara was too upset to laugh. She tenderly took Daniel by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Go home and stay there, Daniel." She murmured softly while wiping his tears away. "But I want to help!" He protested. Clara shook her head and started to pull the young boy towards their house. "This is for your own safety, Daniel." She said sternly while opening the door and bringing him inside.

Then, in one fluid motion, Clara kissed Daniel on the forehead, took her dark green velvet cloak and was gone.

She ran to the stable connected to her house and swiftly mounted her horse; Crescent. Clara rode as fast as she could and soon found herself behind a rock that was buried in bushes. Upon seeing her father she felt the bile rise in her throat.

"I-it's ok!" Ichabod exclaimed. "I am here now." He stumbled off his horse.

Clara let a small giggle escape her lips, but quickly bit her tongue when she remembered the situation.

"The fourth victim, Jonathan Masbath." Doctor Lancaster stated.

"And… the head…?"

"Taken." Philipse murmured.

"Taken!" Ichabod exclaimed.

Clara heard an awkward pause.

"Interesting… very interesting…" The Constable continued.

"What is?" Baltus asked curiously.

"In headless corpse cases of this sort… the head is usually removed to prevent identification of the body."

"But we know this is Jonathan Masbath!" The older man exclaimed, puzzled.

"Exactly! So, why was the head removed?"

Clara heard yet another pause.

"Why?" Baltus finally asked.

"… I don't know…" Ichabod murmured.

"You have moved the body?" The Constable asked.

"I did." Lancaster affirmed.

"You must _never_ move the body!"

"Why not?"

Ichabod was at a loss for words. "… Because."

Clara heard him gallop around the site. "The stride is gigantic…"

She heard him turn and stop right near her hiding place and held her breath. Then, he turned and went back the way he came. "The attacker rode Masbath down… turned his horse… came back…" Clara heard his antics halt. "… Came back to claim the head."

He walked towards Clara again and she heard him set something down. She heard the clinking of bottles and then, silence.

"A chemical reaction. It shows there was only a smear of blood, no more."

Clara heard the confusion in his voice and frowned herself. How was that even possible?

Hearing unusual sounds, Clara allowed herself to peak over the rock and saw Ichabod sporting the most hilarious pair of spectacles she ever had the pleasure of seeing. In the simplest of terms, he looked like a bug!

Despite the circumstances, the young woman found herself wanting to burst out laughing at the sight… but she remained silent.

She saw Ichabod frown in puzzlement and examine her father's neck. A large bug crawled out. This time, Clara felt more queasy than ever. Apparently, she wasn't the only one that thought so, because the Constable jumped up and looked as if, he too, was trying to hold down his breakfast.

But of course, Ichabod quickly recovered. "Interesting…"

"What is it?" Baltus asked.

"The wound was cauterized in the very instant, as though the blade itself were red hot… and yet, no blistering, no scorched flesh."

"The Devil's Fire!" Philipse murmured worriedly.

* * *

Everyone had gone back to the village but Ichabod. He himself had no idea why he had stayed, but he had.

Suddenly, there came the sound of a breaking twig.

_Calm down, Ichabod._ He told himself._ There is nothing to fear in these woods._

Another snap.

The young man took out his pistol and pointed it to the bush the sound was coming from.

"Show yourself!" He exclaimed shakily.

* * *

Clara sighed and slowly stood up. The hood that was covering her face just a moment ago was pulled down by a branch. As the young woman emerged from the bushes, her chemise and cover up got caught in braches too, but this time the consequences were _much_ more disastrous…

The materiel that had been covering her breast had been ripped, but not enough to expose a large amount of skin. Her robe had also been ripped; just at the waist.

By now she was standing up in the bush. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she opened one to find the Constable, his eyes widened, looking at her bosom. She immediately looked down and saw what had happened; she covered up with her cloak.

Ichabod quickly looked down at his feet. "I… I… Miss Clara?"

"Hello Constable." She murmured shyly.

The young man cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I…" He shook his head. "That was terribly improper of me, Miss Clara."

The young woman smiled, her cheeks a delicate pink. Carefully, she managed to maneuver herself out of the bush with minimal lacerations. Ichabod was still looking at the ground, a blush painted his cheeks.

Clara quietly walked up to him and lifted his chin slightly so that she was looking into his beautiful eyes. "You've no need to be sorry, Constable. Neither of us could predict _that_ would've happened… I should be the one apologizing for scaring you."

Ichabod looked like he was about to protest but Clara put a finger to his lips, he frowned in confusion but had to admit, he enjoyed the sensation. "You realize that now you've seen more of me then my betrothed." She jested. Ichabod turned looked at her with an emotion she couldn't quite figure out and turned away, he began to walk back towards the village.

Clara grabbed his arm. "I am sorry if I offended-"

"This is terribly improper, Clara." He whispered, not looking at her.

The brunette stepped closer to him. "What is? That a man and a woman are having a conversation near where a corpse once lay?"

Ichabod shook his head and met her eyes. They were both extremely close to each other and Clara felt her eyelids become heavy. Ichabod felt his become heavy as well and began to lean down towards the brown-eyed beauty. Both Ichabod and Clara kept their eyes open and just as their lips were about to touch, Ichabod stopped. "It is improper that a Constable and a young woman in her nightgown are speaking intimately with each other, especially since the said beautiful woman is betrothed." He whispered onto her lips. And with mush hesitance, Ichabod stepped back and looked away from her.

"…Oh." Clara murmured. "I hope that you'll forgive me, then. I did not mean to act indecently."

She walked to where her father lay a mere hour ago and kneeled.

Ichabod saw this and put a hand on her shoulder, he cleared his throat. "I am… I am sorry for your loss, Miss Masbath."

And she heard him leave.

* * *

Ichabod rode back to the village slowly, but his mind was racing. _I almost kissed her. I almost kissed Clara Masbath_. The thought was more than enough to get him excited, so was what she was wearing. Her nightgown was white with peach patches where the fabric had ripped and her red robe sported similar pieces of material. Ichabod sighed. _It's not proper for me to be having such unpure thoughts… she's betrothed for God's sake! _

Shaking his head for the umpteenth time that day, Constable Crane returned Gunpowder to his stall and went to his room to think.

He opened his ledger and wrote _Clara_ in curly letters. Looking at his masterpiece, Ichabod rolled his eyes and held his face in his hands…. What was happening?


	5. Chapter 5: A Different Kind of Mourning

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Sorry that I took so long to update! But school's been really busy lately... sorry! I'll try to update all my other stories but I'm a little stuck, anyways... ENJOY AND REVIEW PLEASE!!

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Clara, and that _really_ upsets me...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the song _Sweet William either..._**

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**Chapter Five- _A Different Kind of Mourning_**

"Be sober, be vigilant… as it sayeth in the book of Peter, chapter five, verse eight… because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.." Reverend Steenwyck said solemnly.

Clara bowed her head and stood with her brother. She heard whispers about the young Constable and bit her lip; yes, he was handsome, yes, he was a beautiful, interesting human being. But this was her father's _funeral_.

* * *

Clara bit her lip even harder to halt the tears that were threatening to spill over and grimaced as a single tear fell. The young woman wiped the tear away quickly, frustrated. She was supposed to be strong for her brother, he couldn't see her cry, nobody could.

Ichabod stood observing everything. He saw Theodore looking longingly at Clara and saw Brom holding Katrina comfortingly as the young woman wept.

That's what Ichabod didn't understand. Katrina was weeping, yet her best friend had only shed a single tear. Looking around again, the Constable saw Theodore giving him a distasteful look before going to put an arm around Clara; and that bothered Ichabod. He didn't know why, but it did. What's more, he felt a sort of satisfaction when the young woman shrugged her fiancé off, but quickly pushed those feelings aside. There was no time for feelings; Constable Crane had a murder to solve.

* * *

He had his arm around her waist and tried to hug her close, but Clara wouldn't allow it. She didn't need anybody hugging her other then Daniel, and having Theodore latched onto her like some hungry parasite was starting to annoy the brunette. In fact, Clara would've gone as far as to say she was feeling claustrophobic.

She shrugged him off.

By now, Steenwyck had just finished the sermon and Daniel had run off somewhere, Clara gave Theodore one last shove, his iron grip loosened. "Clara I don't-"

"Just leave me alone." She murmured timidly.

The young man placed his arm around her yet again and she took it off, annoyed. "Clara, I think that we should move the wedding up, what d'you think?" He whispered in her ear.

Clara thought about this. Her father was gone… so what was stopping her from happiness? She had never spoken to her father about Theodore so _technically_ she still hadn't received answer….

"No." She muttered.

"Pardon, love?"

"No." She stated sternly. "I will _not_ marry you."

"Clara, you've had a very trying day and it's clear-"

"I am not delusional, Theodore. I simply won't marry you… I'm sorry."

"This was your father's wish!" He insisted.

_Quite the persistent little thing._ "My father had many wishes, I do not think he would mind if I didn't honor this one." And with that, she swept past him.

He grabbed her arm tightly.

"It's because of that Constable, isn't it?" He spat viciously. "He's polluted your mind!"

"Let go!" Her voice was raised now.

Theodore let her go and Clara tumbled to the floor in a messy heap.

As she lay on the ground, Clara Masbath found herself wanting to cry all over again.

* * *

"Mister Constable, sir!"

Ichabod turned around.

"You are Young Masbath…"

"I was Young Masbath, but soon the only one. Masbath at your service, in honor bound to avenge my father." Daniel said confidently.

"Well soon-to-be-one-and-only Masbath, I thank you. But your mother and sister will need you more than I."

"My mother is in heaven, sir, she has my father to care for her now… And my sister is to be married within the next month. But you have no one to serve you, and I am your man, sir!"

"And a brave man too, but I cannot be the one to look after you. I am sorry for your loss, young Mister Masbath."

Daniel nodded his head solemnly and moved towards his father's grave, upset.

The Constable turned around and was almost hit by a flurry of black; it was Clara Masbath.

"Clara…?" He whispered to himself.

"Constable…" Philipse muttered.

"Mr. Philipse?" Ichabod asked curiously.

Philipse looked around anxiously.

"…Something you should know. Jonathan Masbath was not the fourth victim, but the fifth!"

"The fifth?" The Constable asked, confused.

"Aye." Philipse muttered. "Five victims, four graves…"

"But who…?"

And Philipse was gone. Ichabod looked to young Daniel Masbath.

"Young Masbath! Find a place in the Van Tassel's servant quarters. Wake me before dawn. I hope you have a strong stomach."

"Thank you, sir." Daniel said gratefully.

_And now to find Miss Clara…_

* * *

_He's gone, now we have no one. I'm in no state to raise Daniel, in fact, I don't think I can take care of myself at this point... We have no means of receiving money other then my healing business, and that can't support us! I should've just accepted Theodore's proposal and stuck it out… I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye to my father properly._

Clara sat at Jonathan Masbath's murder site in the Western woods; crying. Her black lacey mourning gown was crumpled and full of dirt, her hair let loose from the strict bun she had confined it in. She wore no make-up, but her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks a rosy pink from all the crying. Her handkerchief had long since run out of use and she was now resorting to wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

* * *

Ichabod traced her footsteps to the murder site.

"Okay, Clara. Get it together. You have to be strong for Daniel, so just… get up and walk right back into town…"

Ichabod frowned. _She has to hide her tears?_

Without the young Constable's consent, his feet moved from behind the tree.

"Miss Clara?"

She looked up. Her eyes were red and her clothes were filthy, in short; she looked a mess.

* * *

There he was, right in front of her… and she was on the ground; crying. _This is __**not**__ the way to impress him._ She inwardly groaned.

"Oh, um…" Her tongue was tied. _Ok think rational thoughts Clara, make a coherent sentence. _"Constable, what brings you here?"

"…I wanted to examine the murder site again." He said while walking towards her.

She swallowed thickly. "I… I see… and have you found anything interesting?"

Ichabod smirked.

_Stupid! Of course he hasn't found anything yet! He's just arrived! Bloody Hell!_

"Sorry." She muttered. "Stupid question."

"… Are you okay, Clara?" She nodded, her eyes boring into his.

This time, it was _Ichabod_'s turn to draw a blank. He smiled at her and again, his feet moved on their own accord. He sat down beside the young woman.

"I… know I've said this… many times, but I truly am sorry for your loss…"

"It's alright, you had nothing to do with it." Clara said shortly while staring blindly in front of her.

Ichabod turned her head so she was looking at him, a tear slipped down her cheek and the Constable wiped it away nonchalantly. His hand then took on a life of its own and cupped her cheek, it slid down to her neck and slowly made his way to her shoulder before his other hand busied itself with wiping away another stray tear. Both adults were looking at each other intensely and Ichabod's wandering hand opened and traveled to Clara's back so that his arm was around her. The young woman's tears were now flowing more freely and she took the liberty of softly wiping them away herself, yet she did nothing to stop Ichabod from helping her.

She chuckled good naturedly. "I'm sorry… for all of this. I'm not- I'm not usually like this."

"Nonsense." The Constable murmured soothingly. "I'm honored that you think me worthy enough to witness such a spectacle."

Clara smiled before hugging him and kissing his cheek.

"Clara, I don't seem to-"

"I felt you worthy." She answered softly.

Ichabod smiled back at the innocent, child-like creature before him. He was tongue-tied again. "I… I…"

"You're scared of me." The brunette laughed.

"N-no. Not _scared-_"

"Intimidated." She corrected playfully. "Intimidated by beautiful women."

_You have no idea_. He thought grimly.

"…Let me help you." She murmured.

"Beg pardon?" He asked, completely taken by surprise at the random sentence that tumbled from her lips.

"Let me help you solve this mystery, Constable."

"Clara, I cannot-"

"Do you know what the last thing I said to my father was?" She asked quietly. "…I hate you. That was the last thing I said to him before he died… I want to help you, Constable. I _need_ to avenge my father."

"Miss Masbath, I offer you my sincerest sympathies, but I cannot let you help me. It is too dangerous."

"…I see. Well, I should be getting back to my brother…" She said disappointed.

She began to walk towards the village but was stopped by Ichabod's hand. She marveled at how soft and gentle it was compared to Theodore's. The young man leant down and pressed his lips to her hand sweetly and Clara parted her lips. "I…- Thank you again fer everything." She smiled politely before running in the direction of the village, Ichabod murmuring her name softly soon after her departure.

* * *

Clara walked back to the village quickly, her mind reeling. It was no wonder when the young woman bumped into her best friend. Katrina immediately turned around and enveloped her friend in a crushing hug.

"Oh goodness, Clara! You gave us all a terrible fright! Nobody could find you… we thought you had…"

"Katrina, I'm fine!"

"So… where's _Ichabod_…?" The blond teased, her eyes then widened. "You two weren't… You didn't…"

"Hush, not so loud!" Clara hissed. "No, we didn't do anything you thought we did!... He consoled me and, he just… he's wonderful, isn't he?"

"Quite." Katrina smiled.

And then it all sunk in. "Katrina…" The brunette started out uncertainly. "I may have done the most stupid thing in my life; I rejected Theodore's offer."

All Clara's friend could do was smirk.

"What's so funny?! I might've just ruined my life and you're-you're…!"

"It's because of Constable Crane… isn't it?"

"No, it's not because of Constable Crane… is it?" Her eyes widened. "I-I didn't do it while thinking of him… at least not _consciously_… What if I did?" Her voice was now a whisper. "Katrina, I think I just made the biggest mistake of my life."

"No, you didn't! You just-"

"But I did!" Clara interrupted. "I threw away a comfortable life with a man I _don't_ love for a life I hoped would include the man that I-I… I'm _very_ attracted to… Ichabod Crane."

Katrina sighed. "Oh Clara, that's terribly romantic."

The brunette shook her head. "No.." She whispered. "Because he is by no means attracted to me in return, this story won't have a happy ending, Kat." She held her head in her hands. "I'm such and idiot!"

Katrina once again hugged her distressing friend. "I think you made the right decision." The blond murmured.

Clara laughed mockingly at herself.

"For what it's worth, Clara. I don't think that you should marry Theodore… because in the end, you won't be happy."

"And when does happiness have anything to do with marriage?"

At that, Katrina rolled her eyes. "It _doesn't_. But just because it doesn't, that doesn't mean it _shouldn't_… You know what I think?"

"What do you think, Miss Van Tassel?" Clara murmured while groaning inwardly, sometimes Katrina's ideas were crazy… and Clara was _not_ about to go and confess her feelings to the incredibly handsome Constable.

"I think you should stay with us."

"What?! No, I couldn't-"

"Oh come _on_ Clara! Your brother is staying in the servant's quarters to help your dear Constable and you seem to have a lot on your mind…"

A half hour later, Clara was given a room in the Van Tassel household.

Sarah and Daniel entered the room just as the brunette was getting ready to leave.

"Clara!" Her brother exclaimed as he jumped into her arms.

"Daniel." She whispered breathlessly. "You know I was just coming to find you?"

The young boy smiled as Clara ruffled his hair, Daniel immediately scowled.

"Clara! I'm too old for that now!"

She smiled and looked to Sarah. "And how are you doing, Sarah? Enough adventure and mystery to keep you occupied?"

The young maid laughed. "I'm well enough, Clara." She mouthed the words: I'm sorry. Clara nodded her thanks and Sarah left the two alone.

* * *

Wonderful smells wafted from the Van Tassel's small kitchen and Ichabod decided to take a break from working on the murder to get a bite to eat. Imagine his surprise when he walked in on a singing Clara Masbath preparing dinner:

_The rose is red, the grass is green  
The days are past that I have seen__  
And there is another where I have been__  
Sweet William's a-mourning among the rush.__  
Close in them arms I would embrace__  
The door should be locked and the key in the chest__  
Sweet William's a-mourning among the rush…_

I wish I was where I love best

The young brunette danced around the kitchen, her soft melodic voice crooning to any man close enough to listen. Clara didn't think anyone was listening though, she believed herself to be all alone. Which was most likely why, the young woman stopped abruptly when she heard footsteps.

Frowning, Clara took the spoon full of cookie batter and placed it behind her back. She crept to the source of the noise and raised her weapon above her head. "Hello..?" Nobody answered. The young woman slowly walked through the doorway and squeaked in surprise as her eyes fell on Ichabod Crane.

The handsome Constable laughed at the sight before him: There was Clara, brown eyes as wide as they could possibly be, holding a spoon covered in chocolate batter over her head like a weapon. Some of her hair fell into her eyes (she sported a bun to keep her locks from getting in the food), and flour was smeared on her left cheek and apron. She looked absolutely hysterical.

Clara glared at the brown-eyed man before her. "Don't you _ever_ do that again! Constable or no, you've no right to eavesdrop on me!"

Ichabod thought her glare made her all the more humorous. "It's not funny, _Ichabod_." She growled dangerously.

She rolled her eyes as the young man tried to form a sentence through his chuckles. "F-forgive me…"

"Do you happen to enjoy biscuits, Constable?" Clara asked sweetly. Ichabod stopped laughing at once, the tone she was using was much too sweet for his liking.

"Yes.." He began carefully. "Why do you-" In one swift movement, Clara Masbath had taken some of the batter on her spoon and put it on his nose.

He gaped.

She simply shrugged and popped some of the dough into her own mouth, she smirked before returning to the kitchen.

"You can eat it you know, it's not poisonous. I haven't put the eggs in yet, so you won't have to worry about getting sick." Clara called.

Ichabod could only stand there, dumbfounded. That annoyingly beautiful woman had just put cookie dough on his _nose_. Hesitantly, he too popped the chocolate dough into his mouth. The sweet mixture danced on his tongue before he finally swallowed, it was good, but he wasn't about to tell _her_ that. So with confidence in his stride, Ichabod marched into the kitchen… with chocolate on his nose.

Clara smirked as he entered and motioned for him to go to her. She was surprised when he obliged. He stopped a few feet in front of her and Clara rolled her eyes again, she took his hand gently and pulled him closer. He frowned in confusion while Clara took a dish towel and turned to him, she started to languidly clean the chocolate off his nose. Clara noticed that Ichabod was tense and smiled after she had finished. "So.. What brings you down from your mysteries , Constable Ichabod Crane?"

"I happened to smell something wonderful coming from this very room, Miss Masbath."

"Ahh, so you smelt my new perfume, then?" Clara joked.

Ichabod smiled and Clara felt herself smiling as well, she looked into his mysterious eyes and soon found herself a lot closer to him then she was before. Upon realizing this, her cheeks burned crimson and she looked at her feet.

Ichabod thought that Clara looked sweet with a blush decorating her cheeks and tilted her face up to see her in full. She had beautiful soft features, her eyes were filled with innocence and curiosity and her lips were _extremely_ inviting. Both their breathes mingled now that they were so close and Clara's eyes were half closed, Ichabod wasn't far behind. She felt her lips graze his and jumped back, breathing heavily. "I… I'm sorry…" She murmured. "I don't know what came over me-"

The young Constable silenced her by gently pressing his lips to her cheek. It was a sweet gesture and Clara felt her whole body become warm. Ichabod smiled at her shyly before turning on his heel to leave, but he didn't make it far.

"Ichabod?"

He looked at Clara through some of that hair that was in his eyes.

"Here." She held out a plate with some cookies and a glass of water. "Dinner's not for a while and you shouldn't work on an empty stomach."

Ichabod nodded his thanks and took the food and beverage while grinning at her. Clara's heart launched itself into a complicated dance with her stomach, it made her feel uneasy. But Clara smiled anyways and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek before he had the chance to leave. Her lips were close to his ear and the young woman took advantage of her position.

"Turnabout is fair play, Constable."

She heard him gulp and take a deep breath, unconsciously inhaling her scent. His nose touched her neck and goosebumps immediately covered the area. As Ichabod left the kitchen with food in hand, one thought went through both their minds: _This is **not** good._

**Hope you liked!**

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